The Crash
by The Arnold Waltz
Summary: Helga was just going about her day like normal when some new guy in town crashed into her car.


The car was smoking.

 _Criminy! I can't catch a break,_ Helga thought as she climbed out of the vehicle and checked the damage. It wasn't good. The ancient, hulking Packard that had T-boned her had really done a number on her pink smart car. The other car wasn't damaged as badly, but even it had a bent front bumper.

The driver who had hit Helga was now getting out of his car, looking dazed and confused. He was a blonde man, about Helga's age, with a football-shaped head. _And a football-shaped brain_ , Helga thought. _Must be why he's such a moron._ She wanted to tell him as much, but her therapist had been working with her on anger management. Helga settled for glaring at the man instead.

Cars crawled past them, their drivers trying to get a look at the mess. The man hadn't seemed to notice Helga yet. She groaned. People like this shouldn't be allowed to drive. "Hello..." she said. "Care to explain yourself?"

The man frowned. "Me? You're the one who had a stop sign." He pointed to the sign at the corner from which Helga had come.

"Yes, but the only reason you didn't have a stop sign is because you were going the wrong way on a one-way street." Helga pushed down an immature impulse to call him Football Head.

The man looked prepared to argue, but then he took a look at the intersection and realized the truth. His cheeks flushed bright red, and for a moment Helga couldn't help but think he looked awfully cute. She shook the thought from her head.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize. I just moved here and..."

Helga cut him off, pulling out her phone. "Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the insurance company."

"I guess we should call the police," the man said, still blushing.

Helga put the phone to her ear. "Already on it."

Arnold shuffled his feet uncomfortably as the woman he'd hit spoke to the authorities on the phone. He felt bad for the woman, and embarrassed about his mistake, but mostly he felt sad about the Packard. He had inherited the car two years ago when his grandfather passed. Grandpa Phil had loved that car, and now it was probably totaled. Arnold doubted his insurance would pay for it, since resetting the airbags would cost more than the car was worth.

"They'll be here in ten minutes," the woman said as she hung up the phone. She sounded annoyed. Arnold nodded. A full minute passed in silence.

The woman leaned against the red-brick building at the corner of the intersection, looking at her phone. Arnold had left his own phone at the new apartment, since he was only going out to grab some milk (or so he thought). He tried to distract himself by examining the cracks in the sidewalk, but eventually the silence got to him.

"So... what's your name?"

"Huh?" The woman gave him a look that he was certain meant "How dare you speak to me right now?" But then she shrugged and the look was gone.

"Helga," she replied, sounding bored.

"Helga... That's a nice name." The woman looked down at her feet. Was she blushing? "I'm Arnold," he said, holding out his hand.

She tentatively looked at his outstretched hand, shaking it after a long pause. "Nice to meet you... I guess."

Arnold wasn't used to seeing someone cycle through so many emotions so quickly. He knew ought to let it be, but Helga intrigued him. He tread lightly. "Do you live around here? Like I said, I just moved to this neighborhood."

She glanced sideways at him. There was just a hint of a grin on her face. "Are you trying to make friends with me?"

"No, no! Just trying to make conversation."

She pointed in the direction she had been driving. "I live about half a mile that way."

"Oh. Not that far from me then..." Arnold's voice trailed off. He really did sound like he was trying to make friends.

Helga sighed. She shouldn't care about his feelings. Not after what he did to her car. But the poor guy just looked so pathetic. "So what brought you to this broken down neighborhood anyway?"

"Oh!" The man (Arnold – what a goofy name) smiled, surprised she was continuing the conversation. Helga hoped her face wasn't turning red. It really wasn't fair how cute he was. "I moved here from Portland," he said. "Got a job with the local jazz station. What do you... um, do?"

"You mean for a living? I'm an author."

"That's cool. Have you written anything I might have heard of?"

"Um... probably not. I wrote a novel called _Inside the Locket_. It's sorta popular. Not a best seller or anything."

Arnold stared at her, wide-eyed. "You're HGP? I... I love that book. It's so poetic and... heartbreaking."

Helga folded her arms across her chest. She felt exposed. "Yeah, well... thanks," she mumbled. She couldn't think of anything else to say. _Great. It's awkward again_ , she thought. _Aren't I supposed to be good with words?_ She was about to pull her phone back out of her pocket when she felt a raindrop on her head. In moments the rain was coming down pretty heavily. Helga walked toward her car and opened the driver door.

"What are you doing?" Arnold asked, concerned.

"Getting in the car so I don't get soaked, doi."

"It doesn't look safe..." Arnold said, eyeing the smoke that was still rising from her engine. "Hold on. I've got an umbrella." He reached into the back seat of the Packard and pulled out a large blue-green umbrella.

They stood quietly under the umbrella for the next several minutes, their arms barely touching. Just when Helga thought she might faint from embarrassment, a police car and two tow trucks showed up. The rain subsided as they explained the incident to the officer.

"Do I need to call a cab for you folks?" The officer asked as they were finishing up.

"No, I'm close by. I can walk." Arnold said.

"Me too."

"Alright. Have a nice day."

The officer drove away and Arnold collapsed the umbrella. "Well... I know that wasn't the most pleasant situation, but..." Arnold held out his hand. "I'm still happy to have made your acquaintance."

Helga bit her lip like she was contemplating something. Instead of shaking Arnold's hand to signal their goodbye, she reached into her pocket and took out a small notebook and pen. Helga wrote down her name and cell number and handed the page to Arnold. "If you need someone to show you around the neighborhood, give me a call. Or don't. It's no skin off my nose."

Arnold smiled. "I will!"

Helga shrugged and turned away to hide her blush. "Cool." She waved goodbye as she walked away. "See you later. Football Head."


End file.
